


A Burning Flame

by dicksoutforproblematiccontent



Category: Final Fantasy IX
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Sex, Banter, Cunnilingus, Hand Jobs, Incest, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Non-Human Genitalia, Oral Sex, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rutting, Sibling Incest, ask to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:40:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27896935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dicksoutforproblematiccontent/pseuds/dicksoutforproblematiccontent
Summary: Zidane hasn't been feeling like himself lately. He's hot, and it's like he's going to explode with some kind of weird nervous energy that makes him want to do...something.It's negatively impacting his mood, leaving him grumpy at best, completely pissed at worst.Traveling together with Kuja really doesn't help the matter in the slightest. His stupid, sexy brother only seems to be making things worse.But then again, maybe Kuja knows what's ailing him.Despite being one himself, it's not like Zidane is all that familiar with Genome biology, after all.
Relationships: Kuja/Zidane Tribal
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	A Burning Flame

**Author's Note:**

> If I gotta feed myself, I will. By god I will.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you will all enjoy this oneshot. I once again use my own headcanons about Genome genitalia, so if you're interested in that, I'll post the summary of it below.
> 
> They are aliens, after all~
> 
> Obligatory "fiction is not the same as reality, what are you, three?" disclaimer. In other words: Don't like; don't read.
> 
> _Genome gender+reproduction headcanons:_
> 
> Male Genomes: Have a penis which, when not engaged in sexual activity, is hidden in an internal sheath. Male Genomes use their penis to fertilize the eggs female Genomes carry, and posses a passage under their penis/sheath that leads to a specialized organ in which a female Genome will lay her (fertilized) eggs. In this organ the eggs will develop until they are about ready to hatch.
> 
> Female Genomes: Produce eggs. Eggs will be discarded if not fertilized, when they are still small enough that it's no worse than passing a bowel movement. Have a vagina/ovipositor combo. When the eggs are fertilized, they will rapidly grow, and release hormones that cause the ovipositor to swell in preparation of laying them inside her male counterpart.
> 
> Both male and female Genomes instinctually clamp down on the penis or ovipositor penetrating them, as a way to make sure that the act of reproduction is fully completed before they separate.

Why is it so goddamn hot lately?

Of course, it’s always hotter on the Outer Continent than the temperate, almost cool temperatures of the Mist Continent that Zidane’s used to, but something has genuinely been _off_ lately. He _could_ chalk it up to the changing of seasons, but he’s quite sure that isn’t it, either. Not even a week ago he felt fine, and it’s not like the weather has changed _that_ drastically in just a few days’ time; it’s just the same sunny, near-cloudless sky that always hangs above the Outer Continent.

Yet, it’s like his blood is boiling beneath his skin, sweat making his hair cling together in wet clumps. It’s almost like _he’s_ the one giving off heat. Earlier, he thought he might be sick, that he might have a fever of some kind, but that’s just the thing; he doesn’t _feel_ sick in the slightest. He doesn’t have a stuffed nose or anything, he’s eating just fine without his stomach complaining, he doesn’t have a cough, and he’s not lethargic in the way he associates with fever.

If anything, he feels almost _too_ energetic, unable to keep his tail from jittering and lashing out in all sorts of manners every few seconds. His skin feels like it’s been crawling all day, he’s twitchy and restless, stomach clenching with a nervous energy that he can’t quite place, but urge him to do… _something_ , though he’s unsure what that _something_ actually is.

Either way, he’s too hot, and his body’s apparent need for _any_ kind of activity is absolutely _not_ helping him feel any less hot. He’s so uncomfortable in his own skin that it’s robbing him from his sleep, and he can feel the way it’s starting to affect his mood; he’s cranky, tired, and it honestly feels like he’s on the verge of lashing out at every little inconvenience.

Which is how he finds himself silently fuming at the campfire, awake long past the time he- or anyone- should be.

At the other side of the fire, Kuja sits on a rock, his thin, somewhat frail-looking body illuminated by the flames as he stares up at the moon with too-sharp eyes. They didn’t manage to get a tent today, so there would be no semi-comfortable sleep for them either way, but Kuja’s insistence on staying awake as long as they don’t have one is dumb, in Zidane’s honest opinion. He still hasn’t fully recovered from the wounds he obtained under the roots of the Iifa Tree, and really, he can use the sleep more than Zidane can, so why is he refusing to sleep anyway?

The worst part is, something about Kuja looks so very… _appetizing_ , when he sits like _that_ in that skimpy outfit of his, which is a disturbing thought in and of itself. Zidane doesn’t consider himself shy when it comes to _appreciating_ someone’s looks, regardless of their gender (considering the way people have reacted to his own, er-hem, _down-there_ in the past, it’s not like he has room to judge, anyway), but this is _not_ the time, and _certainly_ not the place.

Kuja is also kind-of his brother apparently, but that doesn’t bother Zidane as much as it should, probably. It’s not like they were created in a natural way or anything.

Ugh.

All of this is _really_ pissing him off, and he doesn’t even understand why.

Stupid hot night. Stupid restless body. Stupid sexy Kuja.

 _Ugh_.

“You know, I can almost _taste_ that foul mood of yours all the way over here.”

Kuja’s voice is light, if a bit annoyed, snapping Zidane out of his spiraling thoughts. His brother hasn’t even bothered with looking away from the night sky, his eyes focused on the bright, full moon above. His face is neutral for the most part, though Zidane has been travelling with him for long enough now to recognize frustration of some kind bubbling below the surface. It’s barely there, and anyone else wouldn’t even realize it, but it’s crystal clear to Zidane.

Normally he’d try to figure out what it is that’s frustrating Kuja.

Tonight he doesn’t really feel like appeasing his fickle brother.

“That so?” He replies, trying his best to keep his voice even. “Sucks to be you then, I guess.”

“Oh? No forced smile for me today? How sassy.” Kuja huffs. “That’s quite unlike you, wouldn’t you say?”

“Maybe I’m just not in the _mood_ to please you right now.” Zidane bites back, a bit harsher than he’d intended maybe, but he’s not gonna take it back. There’s a strange anger boiling inside him, and he can’t quite push it down. “I do _so_ much for you, I’m allowed to have _negative_ emotions every once in a while.”

“You have been gloomy for the past few days, however.” Kuja tilts his head at Zidane, finally meeting his eyes “It’s quite bothersome.”

“Yeah, well, _you_ were ‘quite bothersome’ when you manipulated me, hurt my friends, and tried to destroy the world, you ass.” Zidane barks, before rubbing his temples in frustrated regret when Kuja flinches, a flash of guilt and hurt going across his face. He hadn’t meant to say it like that, but that doesn’t make it any less true, and he’s just pissed off enough not to apologize for it right now. He probably will later, but right now he’s just…

“Don’t start this shit with me, Kuja.” He sighs, his tail twitching. “I’m in a bad mood. Leave it.”

For a moment, it looks like Kuja’s not going to reply, that he’s actually going to listen to Zidane. His expression’s been schooled into a careful neutral, devoid of any emotions; almost like the rest of the Genomes before they were brought to Gaia, though Kuja’s version is clearly deliberate.

Huffing, Zidane looks away, unwilling to stare at Kuja when he looks like that.

His tail twitches again. His stomach twists. He shivers as a hot flash goes through his body.

This _sucks_.

“Honestly,” Kuja finally speaks up, something accusatory in his voice that causes Zidane to bristle as his head snaps back towards Kuja, “maybe if you did something about that _rut_ of yours already you wouldn’t _be_ in such a foul mood.”

Zidane opens his mouth to retort, before he’s stopped in his tracks as the implication of Kuja’s words register in his brain.

_“… Huh?”_

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Zidane.” Kuja rolls his eyes, his face scrunching up as he dramatically smells the air. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed. You’ve been stinking up _everything_ around yourself for at least two days now. _Please_ , even you can’t be that oblivious.”

Zidane doesn’t reply, merely staring at Kuja in disbelief. What… what’s Kuja even talking about? A rut? What’s he supposed to think of that? Sure- he has a monkey tail, and his teeth are a little sharper than most humans’, but a _rut?_ What is he, an animal?

He slowly blinks at Kuja in confusion.

Kuja puts his face into his hands, exasperated.

“My god- you _really_ didn’t know.” Kuja groans, shaking his head. “This is a joke. Please tell me you’re joking.”

“Well ex- _cuse_ me! How was I _supposed_ to know?” Zidane shoots back, finally snapping out of his stupor. “I didn’t even know that was a possibility, you jackass!”

“You didn’t- this has never happened to you before? _Ever?”_ Kuja asks, agitated, before he groans again. “Isn’t that just lovely. He has his first rut, and he doesn’t even know. No wonder you’re not even trying to control it, _nor_ picking up on any of my signals.”

“How would I even control it in the first- wait.” Zidane stops himself before he can finish his sentence, mind zooming in on the last thing Kuja said, almost uncontrollably. “What signals?”

Kuja stares unblinkingly for a second, before exhaling deeply.

“Signals that I’m _interested_ , of course.” Kuja continues staring at him, and Zidane feels a strange feeling rising in his abdomen. “Don’t think I haven’t seen the way you look at me, Zidane.”

“I- you- but I didn’t-“

“Considering your lack of advances, however, I did figure that even if you were interested, you might prefer to deal with your rut alone.” Kuja continues, resting his elbow on his knee, and sighing as he places his chin in his hand. “Though clearly, it’s not so much that, as you just not even realizing that you _are_ in a rut, _and_ that you’re too oblivious to see any of the signs I’ve been giving you.”

“I still don’t know what you’re talking about, dammit!” Zidane sputters, his cheeks burning. His anger is rising again. “You’re being way too cryptic! _What_ signs?”

Or maybe it isn’t really anger that he’s feeling after all. It’s strange, it’s similar to anger, but also not quite. It’s bubbling deep in his stomach, spreading down his abdomen, his thighs, his crotch- and with a start he realizes it’s a weird form of arousal, unlike anything of the kind he’s ever felt before. It’s a surprising realization, yet also not really, considering what Kuja just told him.

Speaking of, Kuja is prattling on about the signs he’s been giving, but Zidane hasn’t exactly been listening. Kuja looks absorbed in his own speech, annoyed, somewhat irritated as he lists things that Zidane realizes he just kind of took for granted, but Kuja clearly doesn’t.

Zidane swallows. With the flames illuminating Kuja like that, while he speaks like that… it’s hard to concentrate on what exactly his brother is saying anymore, an unfamiliar hunger boiling inside. Sugar-sweet thoughts of how pretty Kuja is rush into his mind, along with something more dark, more sinister. It’s almost as if the realization that he’s in a rut (like an _animal,_ god) has made everything all that more intense, and his tail flicks and lashes as he tries to calm himself down.

… But _man_.

 _He’d really like to push Kuja into the ground, head first, ripping that pretty skirt-thing out of the way while biting down on his neck, ass in the air_ just _for Zidane-_

“Hey, Kuja,” He finds himself saying, not quite thinking straight, “are you interested in me sexually, then?”

Kuja blinks at him, before sighing deeply in a rather dramatic way.

“Honestly, Zidane, do I have to draw a picture before you understand?” He says, exasperation lacing his voice. _“Yes._ That is exactly what I’ve been saying, and that is exactly what I’ve been trying to make clear to you these past few days. How wonderful of you to finally understand after I’ve had to spell it out for you!”

Ignoring Kuja’s melodrama, Zidane finds himself shivering, licking his lips.

“So then,” he continues, trying to keep himself from fidgeting, eyes honing in on Kuja’s exposed midriff like a laser, “if I- if I asked to fuck you right now, you’d say yes?”

Kuja huffs, narrowing his eyes, before answering Zidane’s question with a shake of his head.

“No.”

“Huh?!” Zidane jerks upright in surprise, disappointment- and there is that anger-hunger-arousal again. “Didn’t you literally just spend _minutes_ talking about all the signs you’ve been-“

“Let me finish _speaking_ , you _hooligan.”_ Kuja growls at him, and Zidane’s mouth snaps shut at that tone, something primal inside him liking it very, _very_ much. There’s a throb in his abdomen, causing him to almost wince when he realizes his dick is unsheathing without his permission inside his pants, and by the Eidolons, his self-control is dangerously close to slipping.

Whatever that was, however, it shut him up, just as Kuja intended. With a roll of his eyes, his brother continues.

“What I _meant_ to say before you so _rudely_ interrupted me,” Kuja huffs, gazing sharply at Zidane, “is that no, I do not wish to, as you say, let you fuck me _right now.”_

Kuja turns his nose up in disgust, gesturing around himself.

“We are tentless, in the middle of nowhere, camping out on some dirty, _coarse_ sand with nothing to covering us except some old _rocks.”_ Kuja shakes his head again. “There is simply _no_ _way_ I would allow myself to be taken like this. A tent would be cumbersome, but doable. On the bare ground, where sand is sure to get in even the most _uncomfortable_ of places? Not a _chance_ , Zidane.”

Kuja nods with finality at the end of his little speech, and Zidane feels himself visibly deflate, the anger-hunger-arousal clawing at his insides while his rational mind forces itself back into control. Now that he thinks about it, he completely understands what Kuja is saying, and even though he probably wouldn’t care that much about the whole ‘sand getting everywhere’ thing, he can see that this wouldn’t be the most ideal place to have sex. He’s desperate, but he’s not that desperate, so he’ll accept Kuja’s refusal.

Even if his body still feels like it’s burning up. And it probably could be fixed with a good fuck.

… Argh.

“Gotcha.” He says after a moment of getting himself properly under control. “I’ll just deal with this on my own then, huh?”

He awkwardly chuckles. It’s really hard (heh) not to let his thoughts spiral back into more _risqué_ territory, so despite the fire beneath his skin, he wills his dick to stop demanding his- or rather, _Kuja’s_ attention. He’d like to think of himself as a bit of a gentleman when it comes to that, so now is not the time, it really isn’t!

Kuja’s (sexy) almost deadpan stare really isn’t helping his problem either, but that’s just it. It’s his problem! Not Kuja’s!

After a few seconds, Kuja sighs, shaking his head- and for the briefest of moments, is that a fond little smile Zidane can spot on his face…?

“I never said I wouldn’t help you at all.” Kuja says, getting up from the rock he’d been using as a seat. “There are… other ways.”

“H-huh?” Zidane sputters as Kuja sinks to his knees in front of him, an intense, determined glint in his brother’s eyes, and boy, if _that_ doesn’t just make his dick twitch in interest.

“Kuja, what’re you-?”

“If you’d like,” Kuja murmurs, one hand slowly tracings its way up and down on Zidane’s thigh, “I could use my mouth to, hmm, relieve your rut some, yes?”

“K-Kuja…!”

He can’t help it. His tail flicks and curls in anticipation, his heart racing in his chest at Kuja’s offer. Kuja’s sky-blue eyes are, for once, filled with patience as his hand continues to stroke his thigh, occasionally straying towards his crotch for the briefest of seconds, before returning to its previous position.

He has to swallow. His throat feels dry, all of a sudden.

A sly grin appears on Kuja’s face, his hand coming to a stop right next to where Zidane can just _feel_ his dick peeking out of its sheath, insides burning with need when his brother’s sinful lips speak once more.

“I won’t bite.” Kuja murmurs, raising an eyebrow and baring his teeth as his grin widens “… yet.”

Zidane sputters at that, but Kuja merely laughs.

“I’m joking, Zidane.” He says between chuckles. “Don’t worry. Your genitals are safe.”

“U-uh,” Zidane gulps, “that’s not funny when I’m like this, Kuja.”

“Oh, grow up,” Kuja rolls his eyes, “so, what’ll it be already? I do say…”

Kuja’s voice drops a few octaves, and Zidane’s breath catches in his throat.

_“I’d love to see what you’re hiding between those legs of yours.”_

Just for a moment, it feels as if time stands still, neither of them saying anything, and in just that single moment, It’s like he’s feeling every single emotion at once. A full body shiver goes through him, the fire beneath his skin flaring to an almost unbearable level as he meets Kuja’s eyes, his beautiful, _wanton_ eyes, practically _begging_ for it. Or maybe that’s his imagination going into overdrive, but still-!

“Pl-please-“ he stutters, not quite in control of his own voice anymore, overwhelmed by a desperate arousal that makes him almost dizzy- and nothing’s even happened yet. “Kuja, I’m- I need-“

“Shhh, I’ve got you,” Kuja shushes him, reaching for Zidane’s belt, quickly but deftly undoing it, “it’s okay. Just let me take care of you, Zidane.”

As soon as his belt is gone, Kuja descents upon his pants, and Zidane forces himself to remember to lift himself up as Kuja pulls them down, just enough so that his crotch is exposed, his half-unsheathed dick red and throbbing with need. His mouth is dry as he watches Kuja observe his dick, fingers drumming on Zidane’s thighs- by god, what is he _waiting_ for? Liquid fire burns in his stomach, the need to do _something_ heightening-

Only to throw his head back with a choked moan, hands clenching so hard he can feel his nails digging into his own skin as Kuja, suddenly and without mercy, takes a hold of his dick, warm hand and fingers feeling him up, massaging the exposed top half. He almost topples off the rock he’s sitting on at the sensation, completely caught off guard.

Kuja lets out a small huff of a laugh.

“Come now, Zidane.” He murmurs, licking his lips. “That’s not all you have for me, hmm?”

Kuja’s fingers smoothly glide over Zidane’s dick, careful but unhesitant as they explore, trying to find all his sensitive spots, while the other hand squeezes his hip rhythmically, a gentle yet firm grip grounding him, keeping him from getting too lost in the sensation of his brother drawing his dick further and further from its sheath. The heat in his stomach keeps rising, biting his lip as he watches Kuja play with him, dipping his fingers inside his slit in a way Zidane didn’t even _know_ was possible, let alone ever tried himself. It’s a sensation he would’ve expected to be uncomfortable at best, but the way Kuja’s fingers curl, slowly but surely forcing themselves further inside before drawing back, almost like he’s pulling Zidane’s dick out along with them- it’s almost unbearable with how _good_ it is, moans and whines leaving his lips at his brother’s handiwork, unable to resist bucking his hips to chase the feeling, the pleasure.

“There we go,” Kuja hums, a small grin on his face, “that’s more like it.”

Zidane can’t bring himself to reply, too lost in sensation. God, it’s just a _handjob_ , Kuja hasn’t even put his mouth on him, but it’s just so wonderful, so amazing-

It’s also taking every ounce of willpower he has _not_ to just grab Kuja’s head and shove his dick down his brother’s throat.

It’s such a surprising urge. He’s never thought himself to be the forceful or demanding kind when it comes to this kinda stuff, but the way Kuja is playing with him now, the way the fire under his skin burns hotter than anything he’s ever felt before- it’s hard to keep himself from just letting go, but he can’t imagine Kuja would appreciate being forced to do anything. If he knows his brother at all, such a thing would be a complete disaster, it would likely ruin the mood _and_ his chances for any future encounters.

He can’t really dwell on it too much, however. Not when his mind is just reeling with pleasure, his entire body quaking with effort to keep himself from taking control.

Not when Kuja places a small kiss on his tip, followed by a light chuckle that vibrates through his entire body.

“Come now, Zidane,” Kuja murmurs, a demanding tone in his voice, “ _look_ at me.” 

And Zidane _does_.

He looks as Kuja continues to fondle his dick, finger his slit. He looks as Kuja places more kisses everywhere he can reach; the head, the sides, the base. He looks as Kuja stops at the lowest point possible, before his tongue darts out, licking his way back to the tip. He looks as Kuja’s eyes meet his, sky-blue and sparkling with mischief.

He looks as Kuja’s mouth swallows his head, and slowly sinks down to the base.

All without flinching, all without losing eye contact.

_Holy fuck._

He couldn’t look away even if he wanted to. It’s like his entire being is focused on Kuja, Kuja, _Kuja_ \- watching the way he starts bobbing his head, flicking his tongue, drawing forth so many sensations that it makes Zidane’s head spin. The way he’s still fingering Zidane’s slit, wet with the lubricating fluids to make everything slip and glide so much smoother, his fingers twisting and curling inside him- combined with the way he’s sucking his dick, it’s almost sinful to watch, to _experience_. Choked moans and loud keens leave his throat, unable to keep them at bay with how much bliss he’s feeling right now, pleasure building and building inside him until he feels like he’s about to explode, except it keeps going, a pleased hum vibrating around his dick from Kuja’s throat-

It’s too much.

It’s all too much.

Before he can even wrap his head around it, Zidane finds himself coming, stars dancing in his vision as he’s finally forced to look away from Kuja, head snapping back as his spine curves, forcing his hips forwards, his tail curling up in pleasure. The pure _bliss_ from his release is almost unreal in its intensity, completely unlike anything he’s ever felt before, the fire in his veins singing. He loses all sense of what’s going on around him, what he’s doing, mind only focused on that wonderful, _world-shattering_ sensation.

It’s the most intense orgasm he’s ever had.

By the time he comes back to himself, he realizes that, in his bliss, he’d partially toppled off the rock he was sitting on, and laying now more-or-less with his head on the ground while his butt is still in the air, practically exposing his naked dick for all the world to see.

An amused but wrecked-looking Kuja grins at him as he scrambles upright, still panting.

“How was that, hmm?” His brother asks, watching as Zidane quickly pulls his pants up. “Considering the state you’re in, I’d say that must have been quite enjoyable for you.”

“You can say that again.” Zidane says, inhaling deeply. “That was probably the best head I’ve ever received.”

“Wonderful to hear, Zidane.” Kuja nods, pleased. “I’ll take it as a compliment. How are you feeling now, by the by?”

“Huh? I’m feeling pretty great right now.” Zidane replies, before realizing; Kuja must be referring to his rut, and how he feels right now when it comes to _that_.

Come to think of it, the fire beneath his skin has lessened considerable, and he doesn’t feel as hot anymore. Not to mention, he doesn’t feel like he’s gonna explode with energy anymore, his tail nice and calm and obedient again as he swishes it back and forth a few times just to test it.

Yup. Completely under control.

“I think my rut’s also been satisfied somewhat.” He finally says, after a few seconds. “Thank you, Kuja.”

“You’re most welcome.” Kuja hums, getting up and dusting himself off. “I’m happy to say your _stench_ has lessened considerably.”

“Oh, ha-ha.” Zidane rolls his eyes at his brother. “My _stench_ , huh? That all you care about? Suuure.”

Kuja’s eyes narrow a little, but his grin stays.

“Hm. Perhaps not.” He says, before sitting down next to Zidane. “But at least that foul mood of yours is gone.”

“Phew, it is, huh? I’m glad, I hate being like that. It’s just no fun.” Zidane grins, looking at his brother.

Kuja really does look wrecked. Zidane is sure he didn’t jostle him too much, but then, he was pretty gone at the end. That really was something, though…

Now that he thinks about it, he realizes something, his eyes landing on Kuja’s crotch, hidden behind that metallic codpiece of his.

“Hey, Kuja?” He asks, eyeing his brother. “Do you, you know… want me to return the favor? I can’t imagine you were totally unaffected by that.”

“I wasn’t.” Kuja agrees, crossing one leg over the other. “But I do not need you to ‘return the favor’, as you say.”

“Really?” Zidane scratches his head. “Why not?”

“As I said, I’m not interested in getting sand in uncomfortable places.” Kuja huffs. “I don’t wish to expose myself here. Understand?”

“Oh, I guess…” Zidane shrugs. “If that’s what you want.”

“It is.”

As the night continues on, they settle for small conversation, since neither of them are particularly interested in going to sleep yet. They talk about everythings and nothings, what they’re planning to do, how they’re going to do it, and when. Tomorrow, they’ll probably make the trek to Conde Petie, and, since the dwarves never really had to deal with Kuja’s more homicidal and manipulative tendencies, they’ll probably be open to letting them stay, and stock up on supplies. Zidane’s rut will probably flare up again by that time, so it would be nice to have proper shelter to _take car_ e of it.

By the time the sun starts rising, they’ve decided to abandon camp, and put out the fire. Since they don’t have a tent, and not too many things to pack, they’re ready to go rather quickly.

Traveling with Kuja hasn’t been easy. It’s had its ups and downs, and many people aren’t very welcoming as long as his brother is by his side.

But, Zidane thinks, considering how close they’re getting…

Well.

It’s pretty worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> Twitter: @Foxyinferno321  
> Pillowfort: @pokemoncha
> 
> Leave a kudos and comment!


End file.
